Of What's to Come
by Phosphorescent
Summary: Barney and Robin share a dance at James and Tom's wedding.


_Disclaimer: Roses are red,/ violets are blue,/ I wrote this disclaimer/ so you won't sue._

_A/N: This is a tag to the flash-forward from 2x10: "Single Stamina." In his narration, Future!Ted says that the wedding occurred a year later, placing this ficlet smack-dab in the middle of Season Three, at least 5 episodes before "Sandcastles in the Sand." And frankly, the kiss in that episode didn't come out of nowhere; the B/R attraction had been steadily building all season. So here's a glimpse at the developing B/R dynamic pre-"Sandcastles."_

* * *

"The chills that you  
Spill up my back  
Keep me filled with  
Satisfaction when we're done  
Satisfaction of what's to come  
I couldn't ask for another [...]"

- "Groove is in the Heart" by Deee-Lite

* * *

**_2 November 2007, 9 PM_**

**_Reception Hall at The Elan_**

As Barney bounced his new nephew on his knee, he said in an undertone, "Stick with me, kid. I am going to teach you how to live! Great suit, by the way. Who's the cutest, best-dressed little guy here, huh?"

Noticing that the baby's eyes were fixed in one direction, he followed their path straight to a dancing Robin Sherbatsky.

"Yeah, that's your Aunt Robin," Barney murmured. "You have good taste, little bro, I'll give you that. But can't just start with someone as awesome as Sherbatsky, you have to work your way up to that level. Besides, by the time you're old enough to tap that, she'll be… well, not _ancient_, but definitely too old for you. Ted, on the other hand… Ted'll be ancient. Not that you'll want to tap _him_! Well, if you like guys, that's cool, but you won't go for anyone as bland as a Ted. You'll have better taste than _that_. I'm gonna introduce you to the wonderful world of bimbos and she-bros early on just to be sure of it."

The baby's eyes widened and he let out a little inquisitive-sounding gurgle.

"You have a point, my good nephew," Barney conceded. "She-bros are a rare species. For a time, I too thought they were mere myths. But Sherbatsky has restored my faith."

Thoughts of Sherbatsky's gun-toting, scotch-swigging ways were abruptly jolted from Barney's head at the sound of a small cooing noise at his side. Glancing at the baby, Barney noticed that his nephew had tilted his head in a slightly different direction.

"What's that you say, baby?" Barney asked. Upon seeing where the infant was gesturing, he grinned. "A vulnerable bimbo? Nice one, wingbaby!"

And with that, he gently set the baby back down in his stroller, gave him a high-five, and strolled over to the sniffling, blonde-haired bimbo.

A handful of carefully placed words later and he was making out with said bimbo. And as he did this, he gave the kid a wink of thanks and thumbs-up of mutual congratulation over the bimbo's shoulder.

This nephew of his had real potential.

Half an hour later, Barney had successfully hooked-up with the wingbaby-approved bimbo in a bathroom stall. Then he proceeded to fob her off with a line about needing to help other women with their self-esteem.

"Rosa, you're a beautiful woman who is entirely worthy of love," he'd told the bimbo, "and now you finally appreciate that. But only think about how many women there are at this wedding… dozens upon _dozens_ of women who don't understand their own value. Surely you wouldn't be so selfish as to deprive them of their own realization? And as much as I adore you, dear Rosa, it is my duty – nay, it is my _calling_ – to help those other women."

Heh. She'd actually bought it.

Truly, Barney thought, scanning the crowd with a practiced eye, bimbos were God's gift to bromanity.

And yet even as he cataloged the wide array of vulnerable-looking bimbos present, he found his gaze being drawn to one particular woman. One particular, decidedly non-bimbo-ish woman.

Without quite knowing how it had happened, he found himself standing in front of said woman and her escort.

"Wow, are you two done already?" he asked disbelievingly, dropping into a chair next to them. "The night's still young!"

"Nah," Ted replied. "We just wanted to take advantage of the open bar again."

"Always a worthy pursuit," Barney conceded.

"Hey, you should join us!" Ted added. Nudging Robin, he said, "Barney should join us, shouldn't he, Robin."

"Sure, if he can bear to tear himself away from the evening's cutlets for a few minutes," Robin said, gaze challenging.

Raising an eyebrow, Barney said, "Challenge accepted, Sherbatsky."

He pulled his chair in closer to them.

"So, did you two see me score with that hot blonde earlier?" he asked.

"Which one?" Robin asked, tone bored.

"The one with the giant honka-honkas," Barney said, making a crude hand gesture. "We totally did it in the bathroom stall."

"Eww," Robin said. "Guess I'm not going to the bathroom here."

Ted chimed in, "Seriously, Barney, no one wants to hear the details."

"Huh, I think the two of you are just jealous," Barney said. "Neither of you have had the guts to get back into the game, which means that you're both going through a serious dry spell. But taking your sexual frustration out on me isn't the way to go… _or is it_?"

He waggled his eyebrows in Robin's direction and gave her a leer.

Robin laughed while Ted just looked grossed-out.

"Honestly, Barney, there aren't that many hot guys here," Robin said with a shrug.

"True," Barney conceded. "Ted, what's your excuse?"

"You," Ted deadpanned.

Grinning, Barney said, "I'm flattered Ted, but I don't swing that way."

"No, dude," Ted said, "You're my excuse. You've already hooked up with most of the cute, single girls here."

Barney smirked.

The three friends proceeded to pass the time by discussing their fellow guests.

"That _hat_," Ted whispered. "It's frightening, Robin."

"Shhh… there, there," Robin said. "I'll protect you from the big, bad hat."

"You don't understand," Ted said. "It has _dead_ _birds_ on it! I feel like I'm in a Hitchcock movie every time she turns her head."

"It's a _hat_, Ted," Barney scoffed. "It can't be that – oh my _god_."

The grandmotherly lady wearing The Hat had turned in their direction briefly.

Eyes wide, Barney said, "That thing is _terrifying_."

"I know, right?" Ted said.

"Guys, it's a _hat_," Robin said. "Yeah, the birds are ugly, but they're _dead_. They aren't going to attack you."

"It's just a ruse," Ted said in a hoarse whisper.

Robin rolled her eyes.

As the night wore onwards, Ted began to droop more and more visibly in his chair. Barney and Robin, on the other hand, seemed to gain energy.

"Ooo, ooo!" Barney said, all but clapping his hands together. "I know what we should do! We should play Centerpiece Combat!"

"Do I even wanna know?" Ted asked through a yawn.

"Does this involve whacking table centerpieces together?" Robin asked, intrigued.

"Centerpiece Combat," Barney proclaimed grandly, "is an old and honorable tradition in which multiple parties try to steal as many table centerpieces as possible. The one with the most centerpieces wins the Combat."

"I don't know, Barney," Robin said. "I mean, this is your _brother's_ wedding; wouldn't he mind?"

"_Mind_?" Barney scoffed. "James is an old hand at Centerpiece Combat. In fact, it's a family tradition: Centerpiece Combat was invented by Sir Barnabus Stinson VI in the 12th century. He used it to prove his prowess to a particularly delectable cutlet, and by the time the night was over, centerpieces weren't the _only_ things he'd stolen, if you know what I mean. Heh. True story."

Robin shrugged, still on the fence about the idea. As she glanced around the room, she noticed that the party seemed to be temporarily winding down.

"Wow, it's _dead_ out there," Robin said, gesturing to the dance floor. "Do any of those people even know how to dance?"

"Let's show those old fogies how it's done, then," Barney said with a small grin.

Against her better judgment, Robin responded with a grin of her own.

"Eh, why not?" she replied. "I'm not tired yet."

She glanced at Ted who was sitting next to her, slumped against his chair, eyes drooping shut.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave yet?" she asked him, concerned.

They'd agreed to split a cab on the way back at the beginning of the night.

"No. No, I'm fine," Ted mumbled. "G'wan and dance with Barney. Hit 'im if he gets too fresh with you, but have fun. I just need to rest my feet a bit, but I'll –" he yawned widely – "I'll be up for more later."

"OK, if you're sure," Robin said a tad doubtfully.

It looked as though Ted would fall over if someone breathed on him the wrong way, but surely he knew his own limits better than she did.

"Excellent," Barney said, and reached over for her hand. With a slight tug, he pulled her out of her seat and led her to the dance floor.

There was no sedate slow-dancing here. Seconds after they reached the floor, the pop-ballad changed to a salsa.

As always with Barney, everything about the dance was a game, a _challenge_. Every step was tantamount to a dare and every dip an exercise in one-upmanship. Robin was competitive by nature, and no one brought out that side of her as well as Barney. There was something kind of exhilarating about it, Robin admitted internally. The last time Barney had aimed that oddly magnetic single-minded focus so firmly on her was when he'd been searching for her Robin Sparkles tape last year.

"Not bad, Sherbatsky," Barney told her, twirling her in close. "Not many people can keep up with the Barninator."

"The 'Barninator?'" she asked with a snort.

"Do not mock that which you do not understand," he told her with faux-sternness. "I'll have you know that I gained that name for my stamina, which is legen – _wait for it_ – dary."

A bit later into their dance, Robin commented, "So, you seem to be doing OK with James' marriage."

"Well, weddings are perfect for hookups," Barney told her with a crooked grin. "James just took being the ultimate wingman to a new level, that's all. He made the greatest sacrifice a bro can make for my sake."

"Sure he did," Robin snorted. "And your acceptance of the situation has nothing to do with that cute suited kid I saw you with earlier, either."

"What, Barney Junior?" Barney asked. "Yeah, he's pretty cool too. For a baby. I guess."

"They didn't really name him –" Robin began in horrified amusement.

"No," Barney muttered in a sulking tone. "They didn't."

Robin let out a breath in relief.

Barney whined, "His chances of getting laid would have increased 183% if they'd named him that."

"Well, he can always fall back on your old-standby if it's such a big deal," Robin told him consolingly. At his inquiring glance, she clarified, "Lie."

"True," Barney said, visibly brightening. "Yet one more possible play for us to use on our broings about town when he gets old enough."

"And that will be…" Robin hesitantly inquired.

"Approximately seventeen years from now. Geez, Sherbatsky, give me a little credit!" Barney said.

"Right. Sorry," Robin stuttered, floored at the idea of Barney being a responsible adult figure.

"I mean, I'll use him to help me pick up chicks before then, but he won't actually get to bro-around with me until he's of age," Barney continued. "_God_, Sherbatsky, what kind of reprobate do you think I am?"

"Well, you have to admit, you are a bit of a scoundrel," Robin told him with a shrug.

"Heh. Scoundrel," Barney said. "I like it. And so do the _lay_-deez."

"For your information, most women prefer nice men," Robin sniffed.

"Sure they do," Barney agreed. "For matrimony. But for hot one-night stands? Bad boys all the way, baby."

All Robin could do was shrug because, well, he had a point.

With a self-satisfied expression, Barney dipped her.

Robin rarely dwelled on it, but Barney was more than just a little bit hot, and moments such as this one – when his eyes met hers with a surprising intensity – only served to drive that fact home.

His hand was warm against the small of her back, but she could feel its heat as acutely as though it was burning straight through the fabric of her dress and down to her bare skin. Mmmm… bare skin… _no_! No. _No_. Bad Robin. No thinking about Barney and bare skin (on bare skin…).

Even worse than the spots where Barney was touching her, though, were the spots where he _wasn't_ touching her; feeling the warmth emanating from a body so close to yet still not touching hers was oddly erotic. Her entire body was humming with desire and nervous energy.

Clearly, this was all this stupid salsa's fault. If they hadn't been dancing together to it, she'd never have gotten these dangerous ideas (back) into her head.

So she was glad when the song ended. Really.

"Hey," she said, determinedly upbeat, "Wanna steal table centerpieces?"

Barney's smile widened, eyes crinkling in mischievous appreciation. "I thought you'd never ask."

"OK, we need some rules," Robin said briskly, drawing him away from the dance floor. "Determining the winner by the sheer number of centerpieces stolen is kind of short-sighted. Some arrangements are harder to steal than others, right? So different items should be worth different amounts of points."

Barney nodded approvingly.

Encouraged, Robin continued. "Why don't we make the small floral arrangements two points each, the big ones three points, and the floating tea light candles five points if you grab the entire bowl, but only half a point individually?"

"And if the candles are still lit when we reconvene, they're worth an extra two points," Barney chimed in. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," Robin said. "Meet outside in half an hour?"

Barney nodded and added, "May the best bro win."

They shook hands solemnly and then headed their separate ways.

Half an hour later, they met up outside as promised.

Robin had thought that she'd done pretty well, but seeing what Barney had filched…

"How the hell did you manage to sneak _that_ out?" she asked, impressed.

Barney smirked proudly, draping his arm over the crystal chandelier.

"_Please_," he scoffed.

"No, seriously," Robin said. "How did you get that out of the hall without anyone noticing?"

"Trade secret," Barney told her. "If I told you, Sherbatsky –"

"You'd have to kill me?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, no," he responded, "But your dead body _would_ mysteriously appear in the Hudson River the next morning."

Robin grinned helplessly. Barney was being melodramatic and silly and maybe-kind-of-possibly-slightly-honest (because who knew what he got up to at AltruCell) and God help her, she was enjoying every minute of it.

"Guess I won," Barney concluded, absently patting the chandelier.

"Wait just a second, buster!" Robin said. "Impressive as it is, a chandelier isn't a table centerpiece, and we only agreed to steal those. So… sorry, but your chandelier doesn't count. Which means that _I_ win."

She made little effort to hide the gloating certainty in her voice.

"But, but, but… it's a _chandelier_," Barney protested. "That's like the ultimate centerpiece. And it was right above a table…"

Robin shrugged, not buying his logic.

"Call it a tie?" he said at last, holding up a hand for a high-five.

"We can call it that," Robin conceded, slapping his hand with one of her own. "But we both know that I totally won."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Hah! You even agree with me!" Barney said triumphantly as they walked back into the reception hall, centerpieces and chandelier abandoned outside.

"What are you, seven?" Robin said. "Tricking me into saying 'did not' doesn't count as my actual agreement."

"Does so!"

"Does not!"

"Does –"

"Seriously, guys, is this what you've been doing for the past hour?"

Ted had appeared at their side.

Barney and Robin exchanged smirks and simultaneously exclaimed:

"Yes!"

"No!"

Ted groaned.

"It's too late for this," he muttered. "Robin, I'm ready to go back whenever you are."

"Sure," Robin said. "Just let me grab my purse and we can… wait. Ted, where's my purse?"

Ted handed it to her.

"You left it at the table," he said with a shrug. "Hey, Barney, wanna split a cab with us?"

Barney hesitated for a brief moment, actually seeming to consider it, before saying, "Nah. There are still a lot of _dishes_ to be sampled here, if you know what I mean. What up!"

Ted reluctantly high-fived Barney.

"Goodnight, Barney," Robin said dryly. "Happy hunting."

Barney waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, there'll be a lot of happiness going around tonight, Sherbatsky," he said.

"Not to mention STDs," Ted muttered, steering Robin out the door.

Robin snorted appreciatively and shoved down a slight pang of guilt.

Barney had never been anything but respectful (in his own weird way) towards her, but that didn't mean that he wasn't a huge jerk to his conquests. And yeah, maybe he was big on using protection, but that didn't mean that he didn't deserve the occasional dig.

_That's right_, she reminded herself as she climbed into the cab after Ted. _Think about Barney's negative traits._

Because sometimes these days, it felt as though that was all that was holding her back from doing something _really_ stupid.


End file.
